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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472496">Food for Your Love and Thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashima/pseuds/mashima'>mashima</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Osamu can't stop thinking about food, Osamu's Gay Awakening, Osamu-centric, Suna is patient, Sweet, he's a hungry boi, strike when Atsumu is away</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:16:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashima/pseuds/mashima</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Atsumu’s away at the All-Japan Youth training camp, so Suna walks Osamu home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SunaOsa</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Food for Your Love and Thoughts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The gods whispered this fic to me and breathed this to life. </p><p>slight warning about the copious amount of- you guessed it- food.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’ll bring ya’ souvenirs,” Atsumu tells him snarkily, “so don’ miss me too much eh?”</p><p>Osamu would have pummeled his twin if he hadn’t had a twinge of common sense left in him. He merely gives Atsumu a rough shove. “Piss off. Y’know everyone there hates yer’ guts.”</p><p>Deep down, Osamu knows that Atsumu doesn’t care. He only cares if the people he plays with are actual scrubs, who don’t deserve his perfect tosses blah blah. </p><p>Atsumu hasn’t seemed to notice his twin’s lack of commitment and heat to the insult, or is probably too excited about the camp. He continues stuffing shirts and toiletries into his carrier bag.</p><p>Osamu folds his arms. “Didja remember the portable battery?”</p><p>“Yah.”</p><p>“Volley journal?”</p><p>“Yah, that was first thing in the bag.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“I’ll come back with so many secret tips. Ya’ gotta be ready for my training ‘Samu.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“They won’t know what’s comin’ fer them in Interhigh. We’ll crush them.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Osamu finally relaxes on his bed. Atsumu has always thought far into the future about volleyball. Even the feeling of crushing everybody that’s good in the high school volleyball scene will never ever satisfy him, Osamu knows that much. He knows it wouldn’t satisfy him too, but in a very different sense of the term. </p><p>“I hope ya’ never come back,” Osamu bites at his twin. “Also I want Tokyo Banana. Get some for Suna too.”</p><p>“Ain’t buying shit for Suna.”</p><p>Osamu knows that he’s going to buy enough for the whole team.</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Monday’s lunchtime crawls by, and Suna slips into Osamu’s class, and plops his ass into Atsumu’s seat. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Osamu pulls out his bento. Suna has a yakisoba bread and a carton of yoghurt. </p><p>“Ma made too much for me,” Osamu comments, ruefully looking at his full-sized tamagoyaki. </p><p>Usually it would have been halved, and Osamu would have stolen Atsumu’s roll from his box. A whole tamagoyaki is Osamu’s original portion size, but somehow he doesn’t think that he could stomach it today. </p><p>Suna plucks a slice of the roll and pops it into his mouth.</p><p>“I didn’t say ya’ could have it.” </p><p>Suna eats another slice.</p><p>Osamu huffs out of his nose, very much like what Atsumu would have done, but he says nothing. They eat lunch amicably, and Osamu thinks about the math homework due next period that he forgot to complete. Whatever.</p><p>“Hey, wanna practice blocks with me?” Suna empties his drink, shooting the carton directly into the class’s trash can from the back of the class. Several of Osamu’s classmates whoop.</p><p>“Now? We gon’ get stitches.” </p><p>“Not now, dummy. Before practice.”</p><p>“Oh.” Osamu contemplates the proposition. He never had any solid plans before. He and Atsumu would do whatever they felt like doing- play a prank on Aran, sneak by Kita’s class to watch the upperclassman as he packs his bag and get ready for volleyball practice, or spike and receiving practice with Suna and Akagi. </p><p>This is new, yet familiar.</p><p>“Yah, sure. Can’t have him comin’ back and decidin’ we’re all scrubs, might blow his head off.”</p><p>He knows his brother is expecting him to work twice as hard at home, to keep up with the doubled practice he gets in Tokyo. Osamu’s still got school and homework, but it’s not supposed to make a difference.</p><p>He packs his emptied bento away. </p><p>“I want curry bread.” </p><p>“Pretty sure the canteen’s sold out.” Suna starts, but follows Osamu to the door.</p><p>“Miya!” Someone calls as soon as Osamu steps out, which is quickly followed by, “Wait, where’s the blond one?” </p><p>“Dead,” Osamu retaliates almost immediately, muttering softly under his breath. He sees Suna fight off a smile from the corner of his eyes. </p><p>“Blondie ain’t gonna be here da whole week.” the half-a-twin says out loud instead, and the guy salutes in acknowledgement, and walks away. </p><p>Suna’s face resets back into its default, bored look. “Not gonna ask what was it about?”</p><p>“Can’t be important.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>They walk to the canteen lazily, both pairs of long legs striding across the concrete school floors in comfortable ease. Osamu itches for a conversation, so he starts one.</p><p>“Yer’ got math later?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Shit, I could’ve asked homework from ya’. Lemme copy?”</p><p>“You don’t have time after the bread though.”</p><p>“I copy real fast.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“Not hungry anymore. Let’s go get yer’ homework.” Osamu reaches out for Suna’s wrist, pulling him back in the direction they came from. Suna’s arm is icy despite their winter uniform, because it’s early December and his body temperature has always run cold. Osamu feels his own hand burn against his friend’s smooth, frigid skin. Hm. He lets go lightly.</p><p>They get to Suna’s class and his math book is wrangled out of his bag. Osamu waves it in the air as thanks, and waltzes back to his class.</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Suna waits outside at the fifth period to get the book back.</p><p>Then, Suna waits outside to go to their promised before-practice practice session.</p><p>Suna also waits outside the changing room as Osamu dies on the inside- his fucking twin brought the wrong pair of shorts to the camp, so now he’s stuck with the gym shorts with the tiny embroidered “A” on it instead. It’s not as if anyone’s going to notice anyway, but Osamu has the feeling that Kita-san’s telling eyes might. He feels wronged because he personally hasn’t even fucked up at all in front of Kita-san in the past… two weeks, and this is how he’s going to go down. With fucking Atsumu’s fault. He steels himself up for mortification later. </p><p>Suna tilts his head at Osamu when he finally steps out.</p><p>“What?” Osamu snaps.</p><p>“Mm. That’s Atsumu’s.” Suna says, real smooth and casual, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. </p><p>“Shut yer’ mouth. He’s the dumbass who took the wrong ‘un to the stupid camp.”</p><p>“Mm.” Suna jams both of his arms into his pants. No one can blame him, it’s early winter and they’re in shorts. He’s cold. </p><p>They start practicing. </p><p>Volleyball practice starts and they practice some more.</p><p>Kita-san’s bright eyes rakes Osamu’s body up and down as they do roll-call. Osamu feels as if he’s stripped naked. He shivers, but ultimately Kita-san makes no comment about how one should always be methodological when it comes to clothes organisation. Osamu thinks that he’s saving the talk for when Atsumu returns. </p><p>Osamu waits for Suna at the school gates when practice ends. The temperature has well plummeted in the evening, much colder than what was reported earlier. He has a scarf (thankfully marked with his “O”) that Suna would want, because Suna would often forget a muffler. Osamu knows that Atsumu would want to take care of all his precious hitters, he’s just doing his part. </p><p>Osamu pushes the piece of fabric into the middle blocker’s face when he approaches. Surprisingly, Suna’s already got a light brown scarf on.</p><p>Suna accepts Osamu’s scarf and wraps it above his own. He wrinkles his nose at the smell.</p><p>“Sorry, I don’t even know if that’s washed.” </p><p>Suna snorts. “It’s clearly been living in your bag for way too long. But it’s fine.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>Suna usually takes a right turn at the intersection, but today, he doesn’t. He follows Osamu down the left.</p><p>“What’cha doin’, bein’ a lost puppy?”</p><p>“I don’t know, walking you home?”</p><p>“What?” Osamu stops in his tracks. There’s heat creeping up his face. It’s from the cold.</p><p>“You’re like one of those people who can’t be left alone,” Suna states, matter-of-factly. </p><p>“Isn’t that one of those lines ya say to girls,” Osamu barks a laugh. It rings out loud and clear, echoing in the empty street. </p><p>“I don’t say anything to girls though.” </p><p>“Mm, maybe yer’ should start to.”</p><p>“Should I really?”</p><p>“M’sure they would like ya’, if ya tried. Yer nice, Sunarin. And tall? Girls like that.”</p><p>“What about you though? You don’t seem to like talking to any girl. You only stick to Atsumu, or anyone from the volleyball club.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Osamu supplies uselessly, “I don’t think I find a lot of them interesting, ‘m suppose.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>They’ve reached the Miya doorstep. “Bye.” Osamu greets curtly, before turning in without so much as a glance back.</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Tuesday means that Osamu’s got English, which he never ever does the work for. But his legs bring themselves into Suna’s class anyway.</p><p>“Suna, lemme copy yer English.” Osamu nudges the said boy awake. It’s barely first period, too.</p><p>“I didn’t do the work for that,” Suna’s voice drawls, laden with sleep.</p><p>Osamu huffs, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. There’s an itch under his skin. “Eat lunch with me later.”</p><p>Suna hums an affirmative.</p><p>Lunch time comes, and Suna brings his katsu sandwich and milk over.</p><p>Osamu opens his bento. It’s curry rice today.</p><p>They eat their lunches in relative silence, under the humdrum of the classroom. Several of his female classmates throw them glances, and it isn’t before long that one of them approaches.</p><p>“Yer’ Rintarou-kun, right? From class four.” She says sweetly, but Suna doesn’t even look up. Osamu nudges him with his foot.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Do ya’ mind if we sit here with you and Osamu?” She gestures to her two other friends, who are standing some distance away, cute bentos in their hands.</p><p>“I’m done, actually.” Suna replies quickly. “See you at practice, Osamu.”</p><p>Osamu couldn’t reply, because he suddenly finds his desk hounded by the three girls. They didn’t even flinch when Suna backed off so suddenly, Osamu realises. They put their neatly wrapped bentos on his table and opened them.</p><p>The girl on the left had a character-bento. The rice is shaped like a tiny bear and it’s surrounded by its tiny hard boiled egg bear-siblings. She had potato and apple salad on the side. The one right in front of him had a pink bento box, with a delightful sprinkling of furikake atop the white field of rice, to be complemented with her fragrant seaweed and miso soup. The last one flanking his right has beef stew, its rich aroma wafting deep into Osamu’s nose, warming him up from his soul. </p><p>Osamu stares at the food galore, and gulps.</p><p>In the next short half-hour, Osamu finds out a lot of things that he never knew about himself. He finds out that the girls are easily satisfied by his nonchalant, dead-pan answers. He discovers that he’d rather learn about the recipes for their gorgeous bento sets than endure whatever they were yappin’ away about. He finds out that he actually couldn’t care less about girls. It’s just that Atsumu isn’t here acting like an asshole towards them, that they dared to approach “the nicer Miya twin”.  He realises that Suna was right, he can’t and shouldn’t have been left alone. </p><p>He had never wished for lunch to end as much as he does right now.</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>“Ya left me back there,” Osamu fumes when he sees Suna stroll into the clubroom. </p><p>Suna shrugs. “Ya’ should talk to girls,” he mocks, imitating Osamu’s voice from the night before.</p><p>“Yer’ the worst. Said ya’ can’t leave me huh, then what didja’ do- feed me to a pack of fuckin’ hyenas that’s what.” </p><p>Suna had the guts to laugh at his analogy. “You don’t need to morph into Atsumu when he isn’t here.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? Yer’ sorry ass don’t even know what’cha gonna get when I turn in’ta him.” Osamu leers, fully meaning what he’d said. He glares so hard at Suna that he’s sure that he bore a hole through the other’s skull. Suna’s eyes creases up prettily when he laughs, he notices. </p><p>Suna smiles, and wipes a fake tear away. “Yeah, yeah, just say you want me to walk you home again. No need to get all defensive.” </p><p>Osamu absolutely doesn’t need to be walked home.</p><p>He’s the one allowing Suna to walk him home, in case more girls ambush him somewhere again.</p><p>Atsumu calls that night, gushing over how everyone at the camp “definitely thinks he’s a genius, and the new setter from Karasuno is a nameless, useless scrub.” Osamu recounts his day, about how “everyone wanted to eat lunch with him now that the world’s loudest douchebag is gone.” The twins snort and egg at each other, throwing threats at how they would never want to see each other again, then hang up. </p><p>Under the comfort of his dark and all-too-quiet room, Osamu smiles. </p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>It’s finally mid-week, and Osamu is tired of being tired all day. Winter break feels all too far away. All he wants to do is to curl up in some sheets, with some very warm oden in his belly. There isn’t any practice today, so Osamu figures that he could get Suna to go along with him to the shopping street for some ramen after school. The very thought of the thick, soupy broth and chewy noodles topped with his favourite chashu and bamboo shoots almost got him drooling, and it’s still hours before lunch.</p><p>This time, Osamu waits outside Suna’s class at mid-day, and promptly drags him to the nearest stairwell. Suna almost couldn’t grab his onigirazu in time. </p><p>“Sunarin,” Osamu whines as soon as they both settle down on the stair, their limbs taking up about three steps each. “They’re lookin’ at me weird today.”</p><p>“You were acting all brave and calling them hyenas behind their backs yesterday.”</p><p>“They look at me like they know somethin’ I don’t. Or there’s somethin’ on ma’ face and it’s funny ta’ them,” Osamu recalls the gazes. </p><p>“Mm.” Suna takes a large bite of his sushi sandwich. “So now you’re all nervous in front of them?”</p><p>“‘Tis hard. How do ya’ survive when there’s only one copy of ya’?”</p><p>“You’re not a copy of anyone.”</p><p>“Wow. So if we manifest hard enough, ‘Tsumu’ll disappear?”’</p><p>Suna laughs. </p><p>Osamu shovels his fried rice into his mouth. He wonders why Suna’s laughing so easily at his words. It isn’t even near any of the funnier things he’d ever said in his life, but Suna laughs anyway. </p><p>“Say. Have you filled up your career aspiration form?”</p><p>Osamu had forgotten all about the form. His teacher would be demanding an answer for it next period, too. He sighs. </p><p>“What?” Suna presses. “You could just scribble something in real quick, can’t you?”</p><p>Osamu falls silent. He’s not even chewing his rice. “I guess? It’s not gonna be volleyball though.”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“Does Atsumu know?”</p><p>“No,” Osamu speaks, so softly that he’s not sure if he’s hearing himself right. He’s not sure if it’s even him talking anymore. “I just, don’t think I’ll do volleyball like he does fer’ the rest of his life. Ya’ said I’m not a copy.”</p><p>These thoughts just flew into his head a couple of seconds ago, but Osamu thinks he hasn’t felt so sure about himself in matters outside of volleyball and club activities for quite a long time. And Suna’s the first to know, not even Atsumu. What has the world come to?</p><p>“Fair enough.” </p><p>“Ya’ think?”</p><p>“You could do food. You like food.”</p><p>Osamu thinks about food. He thinks about the ramen that they’re supposed to grab later. He thinks about how Suna’s long fingers wrap perfectly around his onigirazu, how he opens his small mouth and takes a very tempting bite. He thinks about the flavours- it’s probably grilled salmon, with crisp green lettuce and crunchy asparagus in the mix. How the nori neatly keeps everything tied together, a perfect package and thus a perfect meal. His mind wanders to onigiri, a simpler, more authentic Japanese staple. </p><p>Osamu’s mind snaps out of his reverie as he watches Suna’s pink tongue dart out and swipe at his bottom lip, catching a stray grain of rice. Oh. Oh no.</p><p>“Yer’ right,” Osamu tries to steady his breathing. “I could do a food business or somethin’.”</p><p>Osamu returns to class, and fills in his career form easily. </p><p>They don’t go out for ramen but instead, he fervently tugs Suna to his house, switches on his laptop and pours his ideas onto the other boy. He feels like he’s positively bubbling with excitement, describing how he could start by setting up an onigiri booth at the stadiums during volleyball matches. They’re squeezed together, sitting on his lower bunk bed, bodies touching from hips to toes, Osamu’s ratty pillow barely giving any support to their wide backs. The laptop balances on each one of their thighs.</p><p>It’s exactly how the twins would have crammed themselves onto a single bed, really, but since when did Suna invade into his space so effortlessly?</p><p>“It’s perfect food for when ya’ go hungry in a match, yknow? I’ve always thought about this. Ya’ don’t even need plates or any shit. Just yer’ hands holding a warm rice ball, easy ta’ eat and clean up, then I could brew green tea or sumn’... ” Osamu drifts off, knowing that Suna’s lost.</p><p>Suna’s looking at him weird now. </p><p>“I mean, I’m just sayin’. Ya’ actually don’t need to hear me ramble on and-”</p><p>Suna leans forward, and cuts him off with a kiss.</p><p>Suna’s kissing him.</p><p>Suna’s <i>kissing</i> him.</p><p>It’s a soft press of lips that leaves Osamu reeling, like how you’re supposed to feel when you eat fresh onigiri made from the first rice of the new year. It’s like the smooth flow of warm hojicha down a parched throat, when Suna’s mouth starts to move and press harder against him, opening up, tongue making a round in his own cavern for a taste. Osamu’s kissing back in no time, a starving man eager and oh-so-ready for one of the best meals of his life.</p><p>Osamu grips and yanks at Suna’s collar to pull him close, in hopes that it can anchor him down to earth. Suna tastes of a sweet yearning, as if he had been holding himself back for the longest time ever. They fit perfectly on each other, lips melding gently together as they mirror each other’s movements. It felt perfect, like- “Rice and umeboshi,” Osamu mumbles.</p><p>“The fuck?”</p><p>Osamu laughs, breath almost all taken away by the boy in front of him. Suna’s eyes are twinkling like sparkling sake, despite what he said.</p><p>“The fuck you said about my kiss,” Suna grumbles again, hands shooting out pinch at Osamu’s sides, causing him to giggle and the laptop to almost topple over and end its third wheeling on the floor. </p><p>“Hold on, hold- ow! Sunarin!” </p><p>“You and your fucking rice,” Osamu should have known that Suna’s merciless. He’s watched him a thousand times on the court, despairing their opponents with his blocks and powerful spikes. If he had observed closely enough, he would have known that Suna had been looking at him too.</p><p>Osamu grabs at his hands, finally stopping the onslaught of tickle attacks, giving him room to wheeze. </p><p>“I liked it, was tryna’ say it was perfect,” Osamu chokes out. </p><p>“You’re a weirdo.” </p><p>“I think ya’ like this weirdo.” </p><p>“Nope,” Suna pops the “p”, and all Osamu can think about is his lips again. “Got turned off when you talked about my lips tasting like sour plum.”</p><p>“Sunarin,” Osamu grovels, finally shifting his laptop aside and launching half his body weight onto his, burying his face into Suna’s shoulder. “I like ya.”</p><p>He could feel the other stiffen at the confession. “You didn’t even know that until I started kissing you. In your bed.”</p><p>Osamu figures that he’s right, because somehow Suna had been right about everything so far. But he also knows that he prefers Suna’s company as compared to anyone else’s, Suna’s jabs and jibes at him, how Suna seems to understand and know him more than he does himself.</p><p>He looks up, and sure enough, Suna’s looking anxious and red, still ready for that rejection that could come.</p><p>“I know I like spendin’ time with ya’. It’s easy to talk to ya’ and y’know me, so I can be myself. You’re the weird one for likin’ me. And also ya’ hot. I like the way ya’ play on the court. I couldn’t even tell if those hyenas were cute, the whole lunch time I was makin’ love eyes at their bentos. I say we give this a chance.”</p><p>Suna snorts unattractively. Osamu now thinks it’s endearing. </p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“Fuckin’ shit, now I have two things to tell ‘Tsumu.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Thursday’s languidly here and Osamu’s got a whole butterfly farm nesting in his stomach. He doesn’t see Suna until lunch, as usual, but it feels like the world is tipping on its axis against him because he swears that he’s never seen the hour hands move so achingly slow.</p><p>They go back to the same stairwell, spread out with their lunches in between them. Suna has an ebi burger. Osamu’s mother packed him omurice.</p><p>“Ma said to give this to ya because she knows ya’ have lunch with me when ‘Tsumu’s not here.” It’s a small strawberry daifuku. </p><p>Suna unseals the package, and bites off half the dessert. Osamu couldn’t stop himself from stealing a cheesy peck at his new boyfriend’s lips. </p><p>“We’re at school,” Suna hisses, face turning into the exact shade of the strawberry. He’s forgotten that he actually chose to date a Miya.</p><p>“Hold up, ya’ never said yer confession.” Osamu pulls away, fixing a look on Suna. “Don’cha had somethin’ planned?”</p><p>Suna curses under his breath. This was definitely not how he thought it would pan out to be. “I didn’t think you would say yes though. It ends with how I’m okay with being friends.”</p><p>“Rewrite it. I wanna hear it.”</p><p>“No, shut up.”</p><p>Osamu moves fast. He’s got both of his arms on either side of Suna, caging him in like a fox would his prey. Suna is backed up on the tiny step, knees hugged close to his chest as Osamu’s torso pins him down. “Rintarou.”</p><p>Suna desperately wants to break eye contact. If he swims in Osamu’s deep grey eyes any longer, his soul would leave this useless vessel of a body. </p><p>“Yer so cute like this.”</p><p>The school bell saves the day and revives Suna’s will to live. Osamu peels himself off slowly. “I’ll hold ya’ to that!” He calls out, before shooting him a bright smile, jogging back to his own class.</p><p>Suna takes a minute to collect himself. He adjusts his pants, then saunters off to class.</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Friday comes, all too quick. Practice feels more grueling than usual, as the coach always takes advantage of the fact that it’s the weekend the next day. The boys would have to be pushed way to their limits, before they can be let off to enjoy their two-day rest.</p><p>Suna walks Osamu home, as if nothing much had changed between them in the past seven days. Osamu casually laces their fingers together as they go, and starts complaining about how Atsumu’s probably already home and would force him to hit a thousand tosses once he gets back. He won’t get to rest at all this weekend.</p><p>They reach the Miya doorstep, and Osamu pulls Suna into a warm embrace. He wants to make sure that Suna’s toasty enough with his body heat until he reaches his own place. </p><p>They hear the soft thud of a trash bag hitting the floor. The couple didn’t even need to turn around to know who’s there.</p><p>“Ya’ chose <i>Suna</i>,” came Atsumu’s horrified gasp, as if he was personally offended by the sight.</p><p>“Yer point?”</p><p>“But we were crushin’ on Kita-san! Ya betrayed him!”</p><p>Osamu whips his head, and narrows his eyes at his twin. “What didja mean, “we”?”</p><p>“Yeah, you were crushing on Kita-san.” Suna reaffirms, and Osamu’s face jerks back. “Watching your senpai pack his bags for practice and mewling at his every praise isn’t something that all of us do.”</p><p>Osamu whimpers. </p><p>Suna beams, and makes a show of planting a loud smooch on Osamu’s cheek, and Atsumu begins heaving his dinner up. “See you on Monday, Osamu.” He steps away, and disappears into the night.</p><p>Atsumu grins then wrestles his twin over in a tight headlock. “Young man, ya got ‘splainin’ ta’ do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there are two things to note:<br/>1) i've forgotten when does osamu tell atsumu that he's not doing volleyball anymore in canon, but i guessed i could just faff over that.<br/>2) i've also forgotten which twin takes the lower bunk, and again, faff.</p><p>my brain: sunaosa kiss kiss fall in love!</p><p>really glad that i could contribute this to this ship though, because i really enjoyed writing this.<br/>yer' comments are appreciated, itadakimasu!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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